What It's Come To
by TheBlackButler
Summary: Nations are being captured little by little. To Scandanavia, it's not important, until Iceland get's taken away. The remaining Nordics set off to rescue their youngest member, unbeknownst to the danger that lies ahead...
1. Chapter 1

It was the hottest topic to talk about in the world at the moment. It littered every magazine in the grocery stores, and the tabloids devoured it and turned it into the paranormal.

All of the nations were panicking. Siblings clung to each other, scared that when they awoke the next day the other would be gone. Everyone tried to continue laughing along with each other, but each held a hint of restlessness.

The first one was Greece. Seeing as how tired he was on a normal basis, Greece would be easy to capture. No one had seen him for a couple of meetings, so Japan said he'd take a trip to his house to check on him. When he returned, he remained utterly speechless for several minutes, and muttered quietly, "He wasn't there."

Calls were made, trips were arranged, and people did what they could to keep the press from finding out. But in a week or so, the truth leaked out that the nation of Greece was missing.

Ukraine was next. She disappeared a couple days later. Russia was absolutely devastated, and even Belarus was at a loss for words. The citizens of Ukraine and Greece were scared to death—there were still large quantities of citizens, so obviously the countries remained alive. But if they died without having another country inherit them, it would be fatal.

Nations disappeared slowly one by one. America. Turkey. The Italy twins. South Korea. Canada. Taiwan. China.

Up north, nothing important really seemed to be going on. The Nordics could have cared if a couple of nations disappeared here and there—it just meant one less mouth not to listen to.

That is, until they got Iceland.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Comments<strong>

Weeell, how do you like my new multi-chapter story so far? It's short, but who cares - this be a prologe, yo.

More will be explained. I hope ya like it.

I got the idea from a dream - and it's a scene that takes place WAAAAY in the future of this story. Can't wait for it.

I think the thing that scares me the most about this story is that when writing it, I have the same feeling in my gut I had when reading Gutters.

Reviews are appreciated! Thank you for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

"Norge!" Denmark burst into Norway's house at 7 in the morning, carrying an Icelandic paper clutched between his fingers. The Norwegian was in his kitchen, pouring some coffee into a mug.

He shot the taller nation a glare. "Annoying Anko…what do you want?"

Since it was only 7 a.m., it was safe to assume Norway hadn't seen the news yet. No sound of a TV rang throughout his house, so if Norway hadn't seen or heard that his little brother was the latest victim, it only made it harder for the Dane.

Denmark swallowed hard, gripping the paper so tight his hand shook. "N-Norway…"

Panic almost flashed across Norway's face, but he controlled his expression just in time. Denmark only called him Norway when it was serious. "A-Anko…?"

"It's…um…" he glanced down to the newspaper in his hands, offering it to Norway for a better explanation.

Norway snatched the paper almost immediately, setting the coffee down on the counter with a loud _clunk_. His dark blue eyes scanned the print quickly, and as he neared the bottom of the page, the paper began to shake.

"Anko…th-this is just a joke, right?" He asked, holding the paper to his chest and not looking the taller country in the eye. "They wouldn't…"

"Norge," Denmark said firmly, looking down at him with a hand on his shoulder, "they took Ice."

The paper dropped to the floor lightly as Norway's head began to spin. He crashed into Denmark, who was ready with open arms, and tried to stop himself from making any noise. All that came out of Norway's mouth were quiet little sobs as his body twitched in agony.

Even for Denmark, his crying was surprising—he'd expected Norway to cry for the loss of his sibling. But he hadn't seen Norway cry since they were kids. After all, he was such a stoic, emotionless person. And the Dane just didn't know what to do.

He started by hushing him softly and gently wrapping his arms around his shoulders. "Shh, Nor, it's okay…listen, it'll be fine, Ice will come back…"

As if to take the comfort personally, Norway straightened up and wiped his tinted red eyes. He glanced at Denmark, nodded, and said, "…we better get to the world meeting."

* * *

><p>"Alright, don't panic everyone, please…settle down, now," Germany sighed in his calmest voice, brushing his hand across a stack of papers. Nations were in hysteria—Iceland was the tenth nation to disappear since the incident began.<p>

"How are we supposed to settle down, you moron?" England cried, gripping the edge of the table angrily. "My former colonies, the second and third biggest nations in the world are missing, and you expect me to _be calm_?" The British nation began further outbursts, but was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder.

"_Angleterre_," was spoken calmly to England, coming with a look from the sea blue eyes he was supposed to loathe. "Please, Germany is right. Seeing as how _Amerique_ is gone, we should listen to him." France offered him a comforting smile along with a bit of a harsher remark, "Do not think that I am not worried about them, too."

England bit his lip, turning away from the French nation harshly. But he looked up to Germany, as if a signal to continue.

Germany nodded down at him, and then looked forward to the table of remaining countries. "Japan, can you please tell us the last time you saw any of the other Asian nations?"

The smaller man nodded, stood up, and made his way to the front of the table. He drew in a shaky breath, and began to speak. "The last time I saw Im Yong Soo was a week before the incident. He seemed to be acting normal—all he did was ask me where Alfred-san was," Japan's eyes briefly flicked over to England, who was still keeping quiet. "The last time I saw Mei was about half a month before the incident. It was too far back, and I cannot seem to remember that well…" he sighed. "And the last time I saw Yao-san was the day before the incident. Again, like Yong Soo, he seemed to be acting normal…so what it seems is that from this situation, how they were acting before disappearance, it appears they did not know that something was going to happen…"

He trailed off mid-sentence, looking up at the tall, blonde man standing behind him. His brown eyes wavered slightly, and his expression seemed to be pleading to go sit back down. Germany nodded, and Japan quietly sulked back to his seat.

Sitting at the other end of the table, about half way down, the remaining Nordics sat quietly and intently, listening to every word the German had to say. In the middle of his rant, Germany seemed to notice, and raised his eyebrows.

"…Interesting. You four never listen," he thought aloud, watching as all heads turned to Scandinavia. Sweden averted his eyes stubbornly, grunting in response.

"Figures," Prussia leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms with a yawn. "They only care when they lose one of their own…typical North."

"Shut up, Prussia…" Denmark hissed, gritting his teeth and preparing himself to stand. "You lost some friends, didn't you?"

Prussia barked a laugh, nearly losing his balance sitting in his now tipped-backwards chair. "Ha! The awesome me doesn't need friends. It's about time you speak up, 'Mr. King of Northern Europe'," the albino grinned slyly, his expression not faltering when the Dane stood up and strode over to him, enraged.

"Listen," he spat, pointing an accusing finger at the smug Prussian, "this is important to us. Ice is like our little brother. How would you feel if you lost Germany?"

"I think _you_ need to listen, man," the albino sighed, holding his hands out in front of him, as if to literally 'weigh the options'. "Look at my brother, then look at yours. Iceland would definitely be more likely to disappear then fucking West. I mean, look at this guy!" He beamed enthusiastically, motioning to Germany. "West is a fucking tank. Iceland is just some scrawny kid who lives up north with his pet bird."

Denmark sputtered for a second, then grabbed Prussia's collar and screeched in his face loudly, "You bastard!"

Finland, Sweden, and Norway all sat and watched the fight silently, occasionally muttering something to themselves. Finland glanced around nervously to Sweden, then back to the fight. After about two minutes of meaningless bickering, he mumbled quietly, "Sve…don't you think we should do something?"

He shook his head, muttering back, "No…just let them fight it out. Who cares what Denmark does, anyway…"

As if to agree with him, Norway added quietly, "Plus, Finland, this is just Anko…he's just worried about Iceland. God, he's so annoying…"

The Finn listened helplessly as Sweden and Norway exchanged comments about how unbearable putting up with Denmark was, with remarks dating all the way back to Kalmar. Denmark and Prussia's verbal fight was escalating into a physical one, and just before the first punch could be thrown, Finland stood up and shouted, "Stop!"

Almost immediately, the snarky comments and loud arguing ceased as what was left of Finland's outburst rang through the room. The blonde looked over everyone with an unusually irritated expression and added awkwardly, "If you all don't stop arguing, I swear, I'll go home and get my _Valmet Rk.62_!"

Everyone seemed a bit alarmed at this—especially Sweden. Finland was always an expert guns man, but never threatened anyone with them unless he was really enraged. Denmark hurriedly let go of Prussia's collar, holding his hands up in a form of surrender.

"H-Hey, don't do that, Finland…" he chuckled nervously, sliding in an awkwardly guilty smile. "You know how I feel about guns…"

"I know, Denmark, but I think that was needed," Finland sighed, still slightly frustrated. "Please…listen to yourselves! 10 nations are missing and all you can think about is whose going to go next? You would think that in a time like this we actually _attempt_ to get along…"

Prussia glanced to a clock on the wall just in time to see it tick to 5 o'clock. "Well, I hate to interrupt such a beautiful speech, Finny, but…" he stood up and stretched again, gaining the attention of everyone else in the room, "…it's already 5. Time to go home."

Everyone nodded and agreed that things would be picked up next week at the meeting that was originally going to held in Toronto, but was changed to be held in Frankfurt for the 3rd time in a row. Finland shot daggers at Prussia, which he seemed to catch, and watched him stalk out of the room twice as fast.

* * *

><p>The usually sunny and happy country of Spain was now silently heading down the hallway with a poker face, thoughts of the disappeared nations clouding his mind. When he listened closely, he could vaguely hear England shouting at France to 'wait up', and before he knew it, there was a hand on Spain's shoulder.<p>

"'Tonio?" His blonde companion asked with an odd expression. "What is the matter? I have never seen you leave that room without a smile on your face."

"Oh, hey Francis," Spain put on a false smile, hoping to hide his exhaustion with a usual happy face. "What do you mean? Everything's fine."

France sighed, sliding his hand off of his friend. "'Tonio, you have never been a very good liar. Now, please, if you will, stop the act and tell me what is wrong?"

Spain responded with exhaling deeply and loudly, hunching his shoulders over depressively. His fake grin dissolved from his face immediately as he muttered, "Nothing much, really…just kind of worried over Lovi and Feli."

"_Mon amour_," France, almost too cheerfully, slapped the brunette on the back, "everyone here is worried over someone. Did you not see _mais Anglais_ earlier? He is not doing so well at the moment, you see."

"It's just…no matter how old Lovi gets, he's always dependent on someone, and, well…you know Feli…"

He nodded sympathetically, quickly glancing over his shoulder to receive a deadpan with a certain annoyed Englishman, waiting with his arms crossed. "I apologize, 'Tonio, but I must go. I shall call you later tonight…it seems _Angleterre_ is waiting for me…"

"Yeah…" Spain brightened noticeably, giving his companion a firm nod. "Thanks, Francis."

"Anytime, anytime," he sang, walking back to England, who re-greeted him by using a fourth of the curses in his vocabulary.

* * *

><p>All of the Nordics were in agreement—something needed to be done by them.<p>

They all sat at a local German restaurant, hesitantly ordering whatever food they didn't find repulsive. The conversation was intense and strict, but it wasn't kept on the down low—after all, most people now were aware of the missing countries.

"Nations are going to keep disappearing," Norway said firmly to the others, setting down his water, "and there isn't a damn thing that the UN is going to do. We get into too many arguments."

"So what do you think we do?" Denmark questioned, shrugging. "Take matters into our own hands?"

"I suppose that would be…what's best to do," Sweden muttered quietly, currently engaged in a staring contest at the odd meat that occupied his plate.

"Exactly. There isn't much of a choice we can do then that. Unless," the Norwegian pointed out, "we all want to sit around, watching other countries go missing. And by then, who knows…another one of us might be gone, as well."

Finland swallowed a bite of his food, clacking his fork and adding, "But what are we going to do? We're not even sure if nations are getting captured, or just simply disappearing. And even if we knew which it was, how would we be taken on purpose?"

Norway leaned in quietly, looking around to see if any eyes were on them. "Here's the thing, Tino. I have a plan…"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Comments<strong>

...Wrote this at 1 a.m.

So, I really hope someone out there is reading...I had one of those nights where I feel like I'm writing really good. And whenever that happens, when I go to bed and wake up and try to write more, I suck again.

It might be a bit much, but I'd reeally appreciate it if someone could drop me a review. I feel that criticism and what people think when they read this really helps with my work.

Can't wait for more...

- Maddy


	3. Chapter 3

Finland stared at his open bag on the bed, contemplating on what to take. He was told to take only what was absolutely necessary, and as he looked up to the wall of guns, every one of them seemed necessary. But both he and that poor bag knew even lugging around more than one would be a toll on his body and the bag.

He'd collected so many…he had stolen 2 or 3 from Russia during the Soviet Union, been gifted one by Sweden, had been allowed to keep one from Switzerland, and of course, his own country's guns. And he collected many others, as well…

His thoughts briefly flickered to the threat he'd shouted at the meeting hall three hours earlier—'_If you all don't stop arguing, I swear, I'll go home and get my _Valmet Rk.62_!'_

The Finn sighed, picking up his Valmet Rk.62 and weighing it in his hands. It was the gun he'd used for the Winter War. Turning it around, he evaluated it in his head. It was still in pretty good shape, considering what it had been through. Some of the guns here he rarely ever used, so he couldn't trust them that well. He and this gun had been around quite a few times, so he smiled, nodded to himself, and set the Valmet on the table, and headed off to the next room over to get some rounds of ammo.

Around halfway through sorting and re-organizing boxes of different bullets, Finland's phone began to ring. He rushed over, nearly knocking down the _Galil_ placed by the doorway, and answered quickly, "Hello?"

"…M'wife," was the answer he received.

With a sigh, he replied back half-heartedly, "…Hello, Sweden. Need anything?"

"First of all," the Swede on the other line started, "Norway just called me. He said that I should call you and tell them to you…first off, when we get wherever we're going, we call each other by our real names. Start now to practice."

He paused for a moment, waiting for a response. Finland laughed nervously, "Okay, Berwald. What else?"

Seeming satisfied with his answer, Sweden continued, "Next…only take one weapon of choice. A couple rounds if you're choosing a gun…lastly, Tino, don't forget…"

"Yes?"

"…We don't leave each other's side."

Finland was a bit surprised at the sudden seriousness in the Swede's tone. He nodded to himself, then replied with a quick, "Okay," and hung up the phone.

Continuing his work, Sweden's sentence rang in his head. _We don't leave each other's side._

* * *

><p>Sweden stared at the phone in his hand, listening to the empty sound fill his ears.<p>

Okay, so maybe Norway hadn't specifically said they needed to stay together, but that was one of the most important rules when invading enemy territory—keep with each other until you know the hideout like the back of your hand. All masters of war knew that.

But that was the thing—even with the advantage of thousands of years on their side, nations weren't masters of war. Such a thing didn't exist; everyone used different tactics in battle. But it was always two or more groups working towards a different goal. In this case, it was just one small group of 4 heading into a possible death camp.

As Sweden paced back and forth nervously, Hanatamago pouncing on his leg, he kept reminding himself that worrying over Finland was okay. Finland was really the only nation he ever really liked—or liked him, for that matter. He'd never wanted Norway in the first place back in 1814. Sweden was just miserable without 'his wife', and getting revenge on Denmark seemed like such a glorious moment at the time. Of course, he regretted it after Norway barely glanced in his direction for the next century.

His head spun as he went through all the reasons in why it was alright to be concerned. He looked at his surroundings—this was his and Finland's house, the house they'd shared since Finland broke away from the Soviet Union. Finland was just over at the apartment he'd rented about three blocks away in case he needed space. The idea of that in the first place made Sweden uncomfortable, but he agreed to it because Finland never really went down there anyways.

He sighed, and glared down at the dog that was scratching against his pants.

The tall blonde sat down on his couch, hands folded across his mouth, elbows resting on his knees. Liking—no, loving someone this bad was okay, right? And he knew Finland loved him back. But he also knew it would never be nearly as strong as how he felt.

Finland was the brightest, cheeriest country anyone would ever come across, and Sweden was an intimidating, tall Nordic that grunted instead of speech. The fact that Finland chose him to live with and spend his time with meant everything to him.

And Sweden wasn't about to let the incident take him away.

* * *

><p>"Nor, have you seen Dupa?" Denmark shouted from the top of the steps.<p>

"…Have I seen what?" Norway called back from the basement, frantically searching for a spell book he'd hidden a month earlier.

"Dupa! My axe!"

He dropped the box in his arms with a thud, glowering at the air. "You named your fucking axe, Anko?"

"Well," he responded, now halfway down the stairs, "it's been with me for a while! Ever since before our first Union. So I named it about 10 minutes ago—pretty cool, huh?" Denmark beamed to himself.

"Yeah, sure, but," Norway added, thinking for a minute, "…you realize it means ass in Polish, right?"

"…" The Dane sighed loudly, now shouting again and heading back up the stairs. "Just—Just, have you seen it?"

Ignoring the clearly oblivious Dane (as his axe leaned against the wall several yards from where Norway was standing), Norway continued shoving aside old documents and photos he didn't have time to look for. He particularly avoided ones of Iceland, instead spending time on ones of scenery—meaningless nothings that may or may not exist anymore.

It was hidden at the bottom of the seventh box he looked in. Blowing gently on the front cover, he muttered to himself, "Dusty already…"

Whatever trip down memory lane Norway must have planned for another time a month earlier was definitely soiled now.

The Norwegian felt a pair of arms wrap around him, and a head peered over his shoulder. "Find what you were lookin' for, Norge?"

"Get off me and go make love to your axe, Anko," Norway sighed, pointing a thumb to the axe that lay in the corner of the room.

Denmark brightened, striding over to his beloved weapon of choice and excitedly gripping the handle. There were still imprints of his fingers from when he held it so tightly. "Aw, man!" He laughed, swinging it in an empty space. "I can't _wait_ to get my hands on someone and take this baby for a spin…"

"We should go," Norway muttered hurriedly, checking his watch. "It's almost 11—we agreed to meet Sweden and Finland in the empty warehouse a few blocks away."

"Norge, why can't we just meet in a casual, non-creepy place?" The tall blonde whined, now sporting his axe hung over his shoulder, the little crown dangling from the end of the handle.

"Because, Anko, if someone sees us that could mean even worse trouble…"

He smirked, following Norway up the stairs to the main floor of their house. "You know, it's nice to see you take initiative for once, Norge…"

The Norwegian scoffed, peering over his shoulder. "Please. If I didn't, who would? Certainly I couldn't let you handle this. Iceland is my brother, after all."

Denmark's face turned serious rather quickly. "Don't think so, Nor…Ice is like a little brother to all of us. Sweden and Finland wouldn't be coming if they didn't think so, too." He brightened again, adding, "Plus, if just the two of us went, we'd be goners."

"Get moving Anko, I don't have time for this," Norway called, already halfway out the front door with nothing more than his spell book. "Get in the car and drive."

* * *

><p>"Hellooooo?" Denmark called out to the empty warehouse, listening as his footsteps echoed eerily. "Tino, Berwaald?"<p>

"Shut up, Mathias," Norway muttered quietly, even his subtle hiss echoing slightly.

Across the wide room, the two could just barely make out another two pairs of footsteps heading towards the center. Norway sighed in relief as Sweden and Finland emerged from the shadows, each holding the one weapon they desired.

Norway held out his spell book in both arms, flipping through the pages while the other three Nordics circled around him. Denmark huffed, saying things like, "Hurry up, Nikolaus!" and "Come on, we don't have all day…"

He had to take his time in flipping the pages and scanning them, because if he didn't, he might miss the page or tear it. That was the last thing any of them wanted right now.

"Ah…here we go," he exhaled in triumph, forefinger pointed on the spell he was looking for. "All right…Berwald, Tino, Mathias, just stand in a circle around me and touch each other's shoulders, then place one hand on me…oh, and Anko, try not to hurt anyone…"

With an annoyed huff and a glare directed towards Sweden from Denmark, they all did as they were told.

"Lastly, when I'm reading the spell, think about nothing but Iceland. If you think about anything else for even a brief moment, it will mess up the destination. Now…" he took a deep breath and gripped the sides of the book a bit harder. "_Where we are, people are filled with glee…but where he remains, he needs set free…take my power and give to another…dear spirits above, send me to my brother_."

Each of the nations held their breath, filling all of their thoughts with nothing but Iceland. Difficult as it were, they all closed their eyes, and suddenly felt a rush. When their eyes opened, they were all lying down in the sand.

"Ugh…is everyone alright?" Tino sighed, rubbing his head and sitting up. "No one is hurt?"

"Nope, we're fine," Nikolaus muttered, spitting out a mouthful of sand. "Ech, god, this is gross…"

"Nor," Mathias mumbled under his breath as his friend looked up, "take in your surroundings."

Nikolaus sat up, looking around the four Nordics carefully. From what he could take in, the scenery was much like a tropical island, palm trees littering the edges. All of them immediately felt overheated—the heat was overwhelming compared to what they usually faced up North.

The Dane was already scrambling to his feet, undoing several buttons of his shirt. "We need to find a cooler place—_now_. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one going to explode."

"Aha, yeah," Tino agreed awkwardly, standing up and starting to walk. "Come on, it's already dark out. We should find a place to sleep for the night."

"D'you think anyone knows we're here?" The tallest blonde stood up, wiping some sand out of the creases in his shirt.

He received a shrug from Nikolaus as he continued to follow the other 3 Nordics. "Probably not."

* * *

><p>"Sir…?" A quiet voice comes into the room, approaching mildly. "The remaining Nordics have arrived to the island—"<p>

"I know," a stronger voice interrupts him, and the servent winces. "They came just a half hour ago."

His hand lingers restlessly on a clipboard as he stutters, "Sh-Should we use the overhead loudspeaker tonight?"

The larger man sits hunched in a metal fold-up chair, looking excitedly at the observation camera's recordings. "Not tonight. Give them a little time to feel 'safe' and 'at home'…we start the explanation tomorrow at noon."

"Yes, sir…" the quieter voice disappears into the air, taking its owner with it. The door shuts with a squeak, and the man sitting in the chair chuckles.

He never figured this would happen. And to think, they all came of their own free will…_this will be a good show_, he thinks. _Yes, this will be a good show_.

* * *

><p>"Guys!" Tino calls out, one hand cupped around his mouth. "Over here. I found a good place we can stay."<p>

Mathias, Nikolaus, and Berwald all huddle over to where Tino was standing at the mouth of a cave. As they peered in, they saw that it was fairly sized and would hold them all safely til morning.

"Everyone go in and get settled," the Norwegian ordered as the rest file into the shelter. "Tino and Berwald, if you could set up the sleeping bags, that'd be nice. Mathias, start a fire."

"But Nor, it's way too warm already!" Mathias whined, looking up from his place on the floor.

"Actually…" Tino paused, the sleeping bag still half unfolded. "It is kind of cool in here. Plus, it's a bit dark, too…"

Nikolaus nodded at the Dane, saying firmly, "Exactly. Start a fire."

It took a while of setting up, but after it was all finished, all the Nordics sat in sleeping bags up to their waists around the fire.

Tino was the first to speak up again as they stared into the flickering heat. "We have food, right…?"

Berwald nodded. "Mm. We won't have a problem with supplies here."

They all sat in silence for a bit longer, all seemingly mesmerized by the flames. Nikolaus glanced back at the sky, and the moon shone back down at him. "Okay, before we get some rest, we need a plan. To keep it clear, our first and number one priority on this island is to find Iceland and get him home." All of them nodded.

"I think it's safe to assume that no other nations on this island are prepared—…you know, if this is where the others are," Mathias sighed, running a hand through his rough, wild blonde hair.

"There isn't any reason why the others would be in different places. The circumstances of the disappearances seem too similar for the captures to be different," Berwald muttered, crossing his arms.

"Yeah…" Tino sighed, resting his head on Berwald's arm. "So basically, Mathias, what you're saying is if we should find any other missing countries, we update them on the outside world?"

"Mhmm. They also might not have many supplies either, so we should try and give them food and stuff like that," he reasoned with the others. They all looked at each other and nodded.

"Also," Nikolaus added, "assuming the size of the island is large, the others might not know some of the nations are here. Especially Matthew Williams—you know how often he gets left out."

"So to wrap things up, find Iceland and keep the others safe and alive," Tino summarized, clapping his hands. "Done and done."

"Now can we sleep, Nor…?" The Dane whined, rolling his head back. "I'm fucking exhausted. And we need to get up early tomorrow, anyway."

The Norwegian nodded and yawned, shimmying the sleeping bag up to his shoulders. "Yeah. Keep the fire going…night guys…"

They all exchanged their goodnights, and fell back onto the hard cave floor, tired and anxious.

* * *

><p>"Mmh…Nikolaus…" Mathias muttered sleepily, scooting closer to his best friend quietly.<p>

"…What, Anko…? It's too late to…talk…" Nikolaus squinted his eyes open to find a pair of bright, but foggy blue ones staring back at him. "Ugh…I'm not in the mood…"

Instead of coming onto him, like Nikolaus was almost certain he would do, the Dane just slipped his arms out of the sleeping bag and opened them invitingly. As late as it was, Mathias was always just so damn warm, and Nikolaus couldn't resist. He complied happily, shifting into his comrade's arms.

"Nikolaus…" Mathias breathed quietly, trying not to disturb the sleeping Swede and Finn. "Do you…think Ice is alright…?"

There was a moment of silence hanging in the air, and Nikolaus muttered tiredly, "If he's not, he'll get an ass-kicking…later…"

The Dane chuckled to himself, nuzzling his deflated hair to the shorter man in his arms. "Sometimes…I feel like a parent to Ice. Or…a protective big brother…"

"Mm…" Nikolaus murmured in agreement. "A big, stupid, older brother…"

Mathias smiled silently, tilting the Norwegians head up to look him in the eye. "Even like this, you're no less sarcastic…"

Their lips fell together in a quiet hush, moving together noiselessly for a moment or so. A small whimper escaped Nikolaus' lips, and he broke off first, catching his breath quickly.

"We need sleep, Anko…" he kept his voice a whisper, in fear that someone, anyone could be watching. "But…I can't fall asleep…"

"Nikolaus…just stop worrying…" the Dane sighed, giving into fatigue and resting his head against the back of his sleeping bag. "Just for tonight…alright? Just sleep for a little bit…and pretend none of this ever happened. Be innocent for one more night…"

All Mathias got for a reply was a muted, "…Stupid Anko…" before his partner fell asleep.

He stared at the ceiling of the cave for what felt like forever. And lying there, old memories sluggishly moving through his head, Mathias felt old. Ancient, practically. But also, he felt it was better to be a nation in some ways—he didn't have to let his home country protect him in every way. Instead of cowering in his house, he was out here—taking action and getting things done.

His eyes rolled over to across the fire, next to Tino. His medium sized bag was lying across the cold floor, and Mathias knew what was inside. He shuttered, thinking of all the times Tino used to drag him on hunting trips.

Mathias hated guns. They were too modern for him. He spent all his life wielding an axe. Even if it was a whole lot more brutal, he got more of a thrill from it. Always on the front lines with his men—that was Denmark, all right. Swinging an axe right beside them. If he was going to die, he would die a man of honor.

_Be innocent for one night more, huh…? _He recalled he'd muttered only a half hour earlier to his now sleeping lover, who looked as innocent as can be.

The Dane sighed, letting himself go into the exhaustion and fatigue. Some rest would do him good. And right now, holding the Norwegian like he was seemed too blissful to pass up.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Comments<strong>

Wow, I'm glad the ending of this one turned out the way it did. I've had this one planned out for a couple of days...

See those random guys in the middle there? Remember that.

Sorry about the DenNor at the end - if you're not a fan, well, if you look through my gallary, it's kind of obvious that DenNor is my OTP. So whatever...

Mathias is my name for Denmark, and Nikolaus is my name for Norway, just so you know. In case you haven't read my other stuff.

I would love to hear what people think of this one. I haven't gotten many watches on this story, but if I could just get one review, I'd appreciate it. I love getting them so much and hearing what you have to say.

- Maddy


	4. Chapter 4

Tino sighed, slumping against the cave wall. The fire had gone out hours before, leaving the early morning chills hanging in the air. Dew sported the untrimmed grasses outside the cave. Mathias groans over in the other end of the cave, and Berwald groans back.

With an unpleasant growl, the Swede sat up, his hair ruffled slightly from sleeping on the cave floor. He glanced over at Tino and uttered a quiet, "Mornin'."

"Good morning, Berwald," Tino smiled at him, hands pleasantly folded in his lap. "Sleep well?"

"Well enough…" he muttered, leaning against the cave wall next to the Finn. "You?"

"Fine," is the bland response he receives. With a quiet yawn, Tino's eyes wandered around the cave. It was certainly lighter inside now, considering the rays of sunshine streaming down brightly, not a single cloud in the sky to block their way. His eyes flickered back down to the sleeping pair tangled together across the way. "How long were they awake…?"

"A while…" Berwald yawns once, and then slips the sleeping bag off his legs. "'Could hear 'em talkin' for a little bit." It was decided to leave it at that.

Mathias woke up several minutes after the conversation drifted off, immobile. He locks eyes with Tino briefly, sending him the message that he couldn't move. Well, either he couldn't or he didn't want to.

It didn't take much to get the Dane to sit up—one glare from Berwald was enough. Mathias got up, replacing his weight with his sleeping bag to keep his friend asleep. Instead, he got another glare, so Mathias rolled his eyes and nudged the Norwegian awake.

"Mm…" he sat up, the sleeping bags scratching together. Nikolaus rubbed his eye, looking at the other 3. "Am I the last one up…?"

"Yeah!" Mathias cheered loudly, hands proudly on his hips. "I swear, Nor, you were practically dead for God's sake…"

"Shut up, Mathias, it's too early for your nonsense," Nikolaus stretched his arm, then slid out of his sleeping bag and rolled it up. "You're such a morning person."

Berwald and Mathias rolled up their own beds, and Tino reached over and grabbed their main supply bag. He took out an apple for himself, and passed the bag around to the others. "Don't eat more than one thing. We have to ration."

They all mumbled something different in agreement. Nikolaus eyed his granola bar suspiciously, squinting at it and turning it over. "I hate this stuff, but whatever…" he took a bite out of it, grouchily spitting out, "What I'd do for some coffee right now…"

"Don't complain and eat your breakfast," Tino scolded, almost in a motherly way. Mathias seemed to pick up the parental vibe he was giving off, and chuckled at it.

"Hey, Berwald," Nikolaus said in between finishing his granola off. "Go check outside. Try and determine what time it is based on the sun's position in the sky."

He grunted in acknowledgement, heading outside with Tino following close behind. After a minute or two of silent chewing, Berwald muttered, "'s about 10, maybe 10 thirty."

"We must have slept late," the Norwegian muttered, suddenly in a hurry. "Everyone, pack up and we'll head out. Mathias, get rid of all the evidence of our fire."

"On it," he responded quickly, clearing the burnt logs and ash away from the scene.

All of them finished quickly, and within minutes their last night's campsite was as good as new. As if it'd never been used for anything.

"Move out," Berwald ordered, all of their weapons at the ready.

The first while of their everlasting march through a shade less jungle was all right. Mathias adjusted to the heat a bit quicker than the others, and Nikolaus took the longest. But it was burning outside—they had only been walking for what seemed like about an hour, and they were already hot and tired. With the sun almost in the height of the sky, the Norwegian leaned against a tree, his breath shaking slightly. The others offered words of concern, but he quickly shook them off. "We need to keep walking," he insisted stubbornly.

It must have been close to noon when the eternal silence was broken by Tino. "So what happens if we run into someone?"

"…I guess we stay for a bit," Mathias answered finally, filling the gap in the air that the other two didn't seem to want to. "You know, talk and get updates. That's what we agreed on, right?"

"Plus, they may be able to tell us what lies ahead," Nikolaus added, his breathing even again.

"Do you hear that?" The Swede interrupted suddenly, making all of them stop and turn their heads to him. "It…it sounds like…"

"Water," Mathias shrugged, motioning to their supply bag which Tino was carrying at the moment. "We already have enough to last for a while, man."

Nikolaus gave his friend a glare. "No, stupid. He means that where there's water, there's fish. And we might as well stock up." He licked his lips, the foul taste of the granola still lingering in his mouth. "Mm…I love fish."

Tino jogged up to walk next to Nikolaus, adding, "Do you know how to catch some?"

He received a laugh in response. "Who do you think I am?"

* * *

><p>"Sir!" The servent rapped on his door again, quickly checking his watch. "Sir, it's almost noon—have you forgotten—?"<p>

"Eh, come on in. I haven't forgotten," he grumbles back.

The door creaks open, a beam of yellow light entering the pitch-black room filled with monitors here and there. His boss sat in the center of the room, in the same position he was in the night before, eating a breakfast burrito.

Nervously, the servent persists in checking his watch. "I-It's almost time—"

"Quit nagging, I'm watching them," the man practically waves him away, tossing the wrapper to his breakfast in a wastebasket. "…That Norway seems to know how to catch a fish pretty well, huh?" Without taking his eyes off the screen, he grabbed a nearby clipboard and scribbled down some notes.

His watch ticked noon, and started beeping repeatedly. "Sir—"

"I got this," he said calmly. "Turn off the alarm."

He cleared his throat as his servant's alarm was turned off. The man grinned to himself, and pressed an average sized yellow button. He leaned forward and began speaking.

"_Welcome to our lovely paradise, Scandinavia."_

* * *

><p>They all freeze immediately from the foreign voice coming from the sky. The first thing coming is panic—the fish that was in Nikolaus' hands slipped out and jumped back into the creek, and not a one of them gave a second thought about it.<p>

Mathias was the first one to register and get beyond the shock. "Reveal yourself!" He shouted to the air.

"_Quite funny, Denmark. And I like the idea of you avoiding calling each other your country names," _the slimy voice held a bit of a grin to it. _"Clever."_

The Dane stood there in shock, protectively gripping his axe. If there weren't three other Nordics standing about, he'd chop down a fucking tree.

"_But I'm afraid I haven't a moment to spare…so I must get to the point, you see," _there was a sigh, and all the Nordics could do was stand helplessly and listen to the stranger. _"This is indeed where we are keeping the other nations. All of the ones who went missing are here on this island. There is a catch, though…they are not our hostages. They are among you, somewhere on this island, like children in a play pen. I have organized the whole thing for our entertainment."_

"What kind of sick game are you talking about?" Tino screeched, his normally calm voice now angry as it stained the air.

"_Allow me to elaborate…at the other end of this island, our hideout stands strong. If you can find us and defeat our strongest weapon, you and all the other nations are free to go home. And we will not capture a single nation or being ever again."_

"What if we just decide to leave?" Nikolaus said calmly, not even in a shout.

"_I'm afraid that's impossible…we have an impenetrable barrier protecting this island. Besides, Norway…both you and I know you aren't just going to walk out."_

He snarled angrily to the sky.

"_However, there is a second option."_

Everyone immediately was filled with hope. They knew it was false, but it was there.

"_You all have the option to join and work for us…if you wish."_

It didn't take long for the idea to get rejected immediately by them all. It ended with Mathias shouting loudly, "Fuck you!" The voice overhead sighed, but recovered quickly and chuckled.

"…_Then I'll see you at the end of this blessed journey."_

The voice clicked off, leaving an awkward silence hanging in the air. It remained quiet for a while before all heads turned to Nikolaus, who was stepping out of the creek.

"…We should keep moving."

* * *

><p>"Mmh…I'm so tired, but I have to keep walking…"<p>

Bushes and leaves are pushed aside with no effort in covering the tracks.

"I want to go home…! I don't think I've had a real meal in weeks…I miss it…"

Brown, unpolished boots hurry along through the dust, their pace slowing eventually. The figure takes a break, leaning against a palm tree.

"Wow…I can't stop thinking about food…" there's a chuckle. "Buttery pasta with a boiling marinara sauce, topped off with little bitty shreds of cheese…fresh French bread, just the way Francis used to make, ripped apart with bare hands and dipped in vinaigrette…mm…"

His mouth is salivating, and he barely takes the time to wipe it away before continuing his fantasies of the buffet he eagerly awaits.

"And pizza, the kind that Fratello makes! Oh, he makes the best pizza in all of Italy…hot, steaming cheese with crisp and spice pepperoni and sausage…and a flaky crust…and a bowl of fresh tomatoes picked from big brother Antonio's garden!"

He laughs, but it's dry and raspy, unlike his usual one.

"We'll all sit at a big table, full of Italian dishes…oh, except for Ludwig and Gilbert—they'll bring a bunch of weird German things, like wurst, and beer, and, um…"

The sentence disappears into the air, left off with the thought of the German brothers. His smile dissolves as well, and he starts walking again to preoccupy himself.

"…Ludwig…I haven't seen him since the conference…"

A whimper escapes his lips. He was just too tired to continue walking, but he heard a stream up ahead…and he was so thirsty…

"A-Ah…Ludwig…" he cries out to no one, crashing through one last bush into fatigue. His breath came in short, quick pants, and his dry tongue hung out of his mouth.

There was a gasp from above him from an unknown voice. "Feliciano?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Comments<strong>

Most of these are posted late at night because that's when I'm most inspired. C:

Don't ask about FeliFeli's weird food cravings. I was waiting for dinner and I started thinking about croissaunts and butter...

Anyway. Thank you for the reviews and watches! I appreciate them with all my heart. Please continue reading and telling me what you think - I know it's sounding tedious and desperate to ask for reviews, but I just love getting them...

Getting closer to an exciting point.

- Maddy


	5. Chapter 5

"Thank you so much for the soup…!" The Italian exclaimed with a gasp of pleasure, happily drinking what was left of his small but plentiful meal.

"Not a problem," Tino smiled back cheerfully. He looked around quickly again as Feliciano set down his bowl, checking to see if anyone was nearby. Setting up a temporary camp out in the open was definitely one of the dumbest things to do—anyone with a mind knew that well. "So, Feliciano…where have you been staying since you got here?"

"Staying?" He blinked, cinnamon eyes curious and wide. "I haven't been staying anywhere…just sort of wandering the island. Where did the others go…?"

"Well, ah…" Tino smiled sheepishly, rubbing his neck. "Mathias and Berwald are scouting the surrounding area, and Nikolaus is trying to see if he can get any reception on his cell phone."

"V-Ve? You have your phones with you?" Feliciano asked, his eyes lighting up almost immediately.

"Yes, we all do…" The Finn sighed, glancing over at their main supply bag, which was lying at Nikolaus' feet a couple yards away. "Though I can't see how we expected to get reception in this place. A bit foolish on our part…"

Feliciano grasped Tino's hands quickly in his, looking at him with a pleading look in his eye. "Please, Tino! Please let me use your phone!"

"Eh?" The blonde looked confused at Feliciano's sudden outburst. "Why…?"

"Ludwig," he plead even more, "I have to talk to Ludwig…"

The thought never occurred to Tino (or the rest of them, for that matter) that some on this island would be mourned by the ones still in contact with the world. And more than anyone, Feliciano loved Ludwig with such a passion. Though it was a wonder why, especially after the Second World War.

"…Go ahead," he replied warmly with a smile, handing Feliciano his phone. He took it gladly, sputtering many thanks over and over in Italian. He then enthusiastically bounded a couple yards away, dialing Ludwig's phone number with shaky fingers. He paced back and forth, redialing time and time again. Feliciano began to worry hysterically, until finally, a miracle broke through on the phone, and a harsh and raspy voice answered, "Hallo?"

* * *

><p>Back in Berlin, Ludwig sits at his peaceful little apartment that he has been forced to share with his brother. It was an average day in the city of Berlin, with the sun shining through the dull clouds. Ludwig had just gotten his morning coffee, and was sitting by his window, admiring the gentle touch of the morning sun, when the missing nations came to mind. He supposed he'd have to face the conclusion sooner or later that either the countries would continue disappearing or the rest of the world would finally catch some sense and try to rationalize.<p>

His mind wandered to the Nordics at the meeting yesterday, all very calm and serene (until Denmark and Prussia started to argue). They never acted like that, even when the crisis began. All of them acted like they normally did at meetings – they simply talked to one another about the state of their economy.

In a way, Ludwig could see where his brother's remark came from. They hadn't been acting like they cared until Iceland was taken away. Still, Denmark had a point as well – Iceland was indeed like the baby brother of the Nordics. They were all so protective of him. Seeing as how thinking about the dead-end conversation yesterday was no help, Ludwig moved on to the others.

He'd never seen England so depressed. Well, there might've been the time after America's independence, but he'd still had Canada. That was probably even scarier for him. England babied Canada for a long time, longer then France had, so it was quite possible that the blonde didn't know how to handle himself. If the entire people of Canada themselves weren't still alive, he would've believed that the poor nation had died off long ago.

Ludwig's thoughts began to ramble on, and he was just beginning to think about the Asians when the phone rang. He sprung up from his seat, nearly spilling hot coffee on his lap, and raced for the phone. Sliding his mug onto the kitchen counter, he snatched the phone and pressed the answer button. Forgetting to clear his throat, he answered in an early morning raspy tone, "Hallo?"

Sputtering sounds came from the other line, and then the sound of quickened breathing. Then a voice eerily breathed his name, "_Ludwig…_!"

The German sprang to his feet, the grip on his cordless phone tightening. "F-Feliciano?! Y-You're alive!" _Well, that's stating the obvious. Of course he's alive;_ he reconsidered while the Italian sobbed on the other end. "Where are you?! Do you know your current situation?" _Calm down, Ludwig_, he thought. _If you panic, he panics. _

"_I-I don't know where I am_!" His voice cracked, breaking down into another round of sobs. _"If I tell you, I might get hurt! Ludwig, I'm scared…b-but the others are here. All of us are…so are the Nordics. Have you noticed that they've gone missing?"_

_Strange, _Ludwig contemplated. _All of the missing nations together in one place...? They must be held hostage, but in an untraditional way, since Feliciano said he might be hurt...and if the Nordics are there, it means one of them allowed Feliciano to use their phone. So they are free to move about and interact. Wait...the Nordics are there?!_

Just at that moment, Gilbert waltzed into the room, stretching his arm behind his head. "Mornin', West. You heard anything from that ass Denmark...? I tried callin' him but he didn't pick up."

Quickly, Ludwig shook his head, emphasizing the phone in his hand. An explanation for his brother could wait, because he wasn't positive how long connection with Feliciano would stay stable. That, overall, was ten times as important. "No, I haven't noticed, Feliciano. I'll let the other nations know by noon." He glanced at the clock, and then turned his attention to the call. "No matter what, stay with someone, or hide somewhere until everything has blown over."

"_Okay, Ludwig. I will. Is your brother still safe?"_

"Yes, yes, just…" Ludwig sighed quietly. "You stay safe. Keep warm, alright?"

"_I'll make it out of here. I promise."_

Without another word, the line died.

* * *

><p>Feliciano sighed softly, the hard reality settling in. It was chance that let that phone call get through to Ludwig, and he realized he'd probably just cut down any opportunity of any of the Nordics calling someone for help, either. He closed the phone and wandered back to the small clearing where Tino sat by a pond, packaging up the remaining food they had. Mathias was just making his way back through the grass, two rabbits grasped in his hand.<p>

"_Grazie_," the small Italian spoke, kneeling to hand Tino his phone back. "I should get going, then. Ludwig told me to stay hidden, but I have to look for my brother." He smiled, and it was soft and warm, but it didn't touch his eyes.

"Should we see you off?" Mathias asked, swinging the animals onto the ground in front of Tino.

"No, my friend, I'll be fine." He turned the other way, waving goodbye to the two Scandinavians that watched his back. "Goodbye! Please give Berwald and Nikolaus my thanks as well." The small, young Italian slipped in between two tall bushes and disappeared into the wild. None of the Nordics were aware it would be a very long time before they ever saw him again.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Comments<strong>

It's been a while. Nice to update, though; working on a Johnlock and writing this in between.


	6. Chapter 6

"We should get moving," Nikolaus said somewhere around noon. The day had mostly been spent in silence, save for a morning with Feliciano, but now that he was gone, the reality of the situation truly set in; yes, it seemed, this was definitely the place where the missing nations were being held, and also yes, all of the remaining Nordics had willingly subjected themselves to being captured. No one was particularly pleased, and the evidence of it was strong in the atmosphere.

They all had different things on their minds. Nikolaus lingered his thoughts on Cyrus, wondering not only where he was but if he had enough to eat and if he was hurting. Mathias thought about his fight with Gilbert and winced a little bit, considering the fact that he probably should have reconciled with the Prussian before jumping headfirst into disaster. Tino, for a brief moment, thought of Hanatamago at home, and hoped that he could trust Ludwig and Gilbert with watching her. Berwald's mind was focused on the present, on staying silent and alert; he avoided every stray leaf, every loose branch, and kept a close view on the sky.

The voice they all heard in the sky had been long dismissed, though there was a nagging feeling in the back of their heads. They all wondered if they'd run into any other nations on the island anytime soon: if they were scattered about, or they had set up a camp together and Feliciano had just gotten lost. By then, it was getting late, the sky tinted with the oranges and pinks associated with summer. Nikolaus' ears were tuned in on every sound he heard – every step on the grass, shift of weight, every breath of all of them. Suddenly he stopped, and at the head of the group, the Nordics in back of him stopped, too.

He turned to them, almost achingly slow, and pressed his forefinger to his chapped lips. They all held their breath in wait, while Nikolaus closed his eyes, listening, _listening. _Then, he raised his arm and pointed west, in the direction of the setting sun. "There," he spoke, his voice breaking the silence, smooth as air, "is a fire in that direction. No smoke, however, so…"

"There's a cave," Mathias finished his sentence for him, turning the group to him. "It's probably friendly, but…keep your weapons up. We can't be too careful." As if to emphasize it, he grabbed his axe from off of his back and clutched it tightly yet easily, as if the motion itself was much practiced.

Together, with nearly silent steps, they all tiptoed through the low grass and towards the direction Nikolaus had pointed in. As they got closer, the crackling sound became louder, more apparent. Mathias carefully took the lead, his axe poised in front of him. Nikolaus followed with his spell book open and a small dagger drawn. Tino followed next to Nikolaus, equipped with a light pistol, and Berwald stayed next to him, his spear wielded much the same as Mathias' axe.

There was, as Mathias predicted, a cave. A fair sized and rippling fire stood right in the center of it. The group moved closer before they saw a figure lying next to the flames with their back to them. Whoever they were, they were shivering. Seeing as the threat was gone, Mathias lowered his axe and moved closer, coming into the light. Nikolaus stayed close while Berwald and Tino stayed at the mouth of the cave. As the Dane leaned to try and see the face of the person, a stranger jumped from the shadows and grabbed his arm, twisting it back, and speaking in a gruff and tired voice:

"Don't try pulling anything on me. I've been 'round longer than your country even thought about existing."

A short silence followed, with everyone frozen in suspense, before the name slipped out of Mathias' mouth. "…Sadiq?"

With that word, the grip on his arm slackened, and the voice was a little calmer. "…Den? That you, kid?" The hand was suddenly gone, and Mathias was free to turn and look at the face which belonged to the voice.

Before him – before them all – stood Sadiq Andan, the man who was once responsible for having the most feared empire in the known world. The former Ottoman Empire smiled wearily and crookedly, looking different without his mask perched on his nose, and said, "Good to see not everyone's gone batshit crazy 'round here." They all exchanged formalities, rather hushed and quiet, before Berwald approached the sleeping figure to take a look at them. He looked up and saw all the others had their eyes trained on him.

"This 's…different," was the first thing he said, locking eyes with Sadiq. The Turk stood his ground, mouth shut. The figure on the cave floor rolled over a bit, revealing his face. The air, once again, stood tense. "Where'd you find Heracles lyin' around, Sadiq…?"

* * *

><p>Kiku hadn't slept properly in two months.<p>

No, not since he entered Heracles' home, expecting to see him lounging on his couch surrounded by his pets, only to find his cats strewn about in various states of disarray, searching for their owner. He scrambled throughout the house, as fast as his old body would take him, checking around every corner and under every blanket. Kiku very distinctly remembered the kittens (ones that Heracles had just recently gotten and shown him, he noted) sitting at the front door and mewling as he left the house and locked the door.

His own bed was strange now: foreign and uncomfortable, smelling too much like himself. The whining, moaning cats were stuck in his mind, even at the early hours before emergency morning meetings. One week after Heracles went missing, he made a call to Ludwig and asked him for a favor. The German reluctantly agreed and Kiku packed a bag and headed over to Greece again.

Heracles' bed was far more soft and sweet than his own; when he collapsed into the bed at night after an extremely long day, cuddled by kittens and warmth, the covers almost seemed to swallow him into their grasp. The bed was intoxicating and it smelled like the man the bed belonged to. Kiku, while trying to fall asleep, would think of all of the times he and the Greek would rest together on that bed, curled in each other's arms in a platonic (maybe even romantic) hold. Kiku tried to fall asleep thinking of that, but it only made sleeping harder.

There was one cat he particularly favored (and the same favored him). It was a black cat – perhaps three years old – that would follow him around the house and rub against his legs while he worked. While he worked hard and continuously to run both his country and Greece, the cat would sit on his shoulder or lap while he typed away. He didn't know the cats name and that made him sad for some reason. However, it responded to Kiku. He began to call it that.

Running two countries at once was extremely overwhelming and tiring. Even with help from Ludwig to run Japan while he was away, Kiku noted, it was becoming hard to distinguish his own country's problems from the problems of Greece. At his age, all of what was happening seemed to be a load of nonsense. Papers, catching wind of what was going on, began to call the events The Coming. What was coming to, Kiku didn't know, but he was sure they'd all find out soon enough.

At the emergency morning meetings, with nothing really happening but disarray, chaos, and arguing, he would think of simple things to get him through the slow hours: things like Kiku the black cat, the scent of Heracles' bed, the sound of the kittens that mewled happily when he walked in the door. The more nations that disappeared, the more often he thought of them. Ludwig wasn't present the day they found out Feliciano was missing. While everyone talked amongst each other for about an hour about this or that, Kiku sat and watched them before finally taking the reins and running the meeting until it ended around noon.

Almost all of his friends were gone: taken. Ludwig, although he came back the next day after Feliciano was taken, no longer spoke to him, too caught up in his own problems and the panic of the world. It was at times like this that Kiku missed the only spot in the world that he could come back to and relax. He missed Heracles.

* * *

><p>"Huh…so they took Ice, did they?" Sadiq said quietly, looking to the four Nordics around the fire with him. He glanced down every now and then at the sleeping (almost comatose) Greek on the floor to check on his breathing. Tino couldn't help but notice how ragged they both looked. Sadiq's usually kempt facial hair was overgrown and rough, and Heracles' mop of deep brown curls almost reached his shoulders. He swallowed and looked down at the cranked open can of soup in his hands.<p>

"Mmm," the Swede next to him grunted in response, staring at the rippling fire. "'S why we're here."

"…" he was silent for a moment before sighing through his nose and accepting a canteen that Nikolaus handed him. "I always liked that kid. Hope he's okay."

"We're sure he is," Tino spoke quickly to fill an oncoming silence he wanted to prevent. Even then, there was still a gap between conversations before the Finn spoke again. "Does that mean you haven't…run into anyone, Sadiq?"

"No one but this little brat." He looked down at the sleeping figure, almost fondly, before returning his gaze to the group. "I swear, he's such a pain in the ass."

"Uh…if I could ask, Sadiq," Mathias spoke up for the first time, catching everyone's attention, "everyone knows how much you hate Heracles, so…why did you take him in?" They all turned back to the Turk, the same thing on all of their minds.

He only chuckled a bit, lowly and evenly. "I spent centuries with this kid under my rule. And despite what we both said I knew neither of us were too awful to each other. I mean," he paused, speaking just a bit quicker, "don't get me wrong – the moment he opens his mouth a good chunk of the time it'll end in a fist fight. But he ain't too bad when he's asleep. And he doesn't know I'm here." Sadiq rubbed his eyes and took a drink of water before continuing. "Hasn't woken up more than about five times since I found him. Every time he does, he just wanders around for a bit until he collapses. Never saw me once, I don't think." Silence ensued. "He's warmer than usual, but…he shivers."

"Maybe he's cold," Nikolaus muttered, eyes not meeting anyone else's, "or he just feels cold."

"I could give him my sleeping bag," Tino blurted. All heads turned to him in a bit of shock. He faltered, but told himself he wouldn't buckle under their stares. "I don't need a blanket. I'll be fine." To prove his point he hurriedly swung his bag over his shoulder and retrieved his rolled up sleeping bag. Almost frustrated, he handed it over to Sadiq and said, "Just wrap it around him. I'm sure it'll work."

After lying the bag on top of his body, Heracles stopped shivering and instead unconsciously snuggled under the weight of the sleeping bag. There wasn't any talking after that. The whole group stayed quiet and eventually decided to get some rest for the night and then move out in the morning. With so many of them concentrated in one area, they all agreed it dangerous to all sleep at once and designated watches. Nikolaus volunteered for the first one.

In the heat of the night (probably around 2 in the morning, judging from the moon), Nikolaus heard someone stir. With only the smoke from the dead fire rising from the logs as light, it was too dark to see very well, but Nikolaus saw someone sit up. Someone with strong shoulders and unruly curly hair. He froze and swallowed tightly as they met eyes in the dark. The other man's eyes were rough and hazy, and obviously straining to see.

"…Is that…?" The voice breathed out heavily, and the Norwegian recognized it as Heracles. He sounded sickly and weak as he struggled to continue sitting up. Heracles squinted as hard as he could, only able to see the outline of a lean man staring directly at him. "…Kiku?"

With a thud, the delirious Greek fell over and returned to his almost comatose sleep state. Nikolaus watched him for the rest of his shift, waiting to see any more signs of activity from him. By the time Mathias woke to take his watch for the night, Nikolaus wordlessly complied and slept in his lap. He intended on telling no one of what he saw or what was said.

* * *

><p>Kiku woke up the next morning in Heracles' bed with tears streaming down his cold face. He didn't know why.<p>

* * *

><p>So yeah its been a while. Kind of nice to put this up because the idea had been dead for so long, but I thought about some of the nations I had to work with and got inspired pretty quick. Sorry if you saw this updated and then saw this chapter was deleted. I forgot to write the afterword. Please send in some reviews if you could! That jazz keeps me going. Hope to keep on writing this. See you next time.<p>

- Maddie


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